


It's all going to be alright.

by BleepBlorpMeepMorp



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: A little bit of fluff, Angst, Canon Divergence, Dependency Issues, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Gender-Neutral Runner Five, I have no idea how tagging ettiquette works but I'll update these if it becomes important, Kind of experimental(or just terrible) style for conveying thoughts and dialogue, Mute Runner Five, POV Second Person, Runner Five is a sad little fuck/punk ass bitch, Season/Series 01 Spoilers, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Some mild violence in the next chapter(?), sentences that run farther than any of the actual characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 21:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14121282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleepBlorpMeepMorp/pseuds/BleepBlorpMeepMorp
Summary: I saw a statement by a podcast creator that said they came up with the idea for some of their episodes by starting with "What's the worst possible thing that could possible happen to this character?" and going from there. Something kind of similar was on my mind when I got the idea for this.*There isn't a super clear time this takes place, but probably between the end of S1 and S2E30? Very little of what happens in here happens in the story, but if you want to be super safe, wait until the end of season 2 to be sure.





	It's all going to be alright.

     "Alright Five, just, uh, just keep going on at that speed for another few kilometers and you'll be at the supply drop."

 

     Feeling the ground roll smoothly beneath your feet, gliding over divets in the earth and between the tree. Sunlight coming dappled down through the branches of the forest to land on your face, you click your tongue. Tick tock<Yes/Confirmed/I'm here>. It's not the kind of statement that really needs a response, but you like to let Sam know you're listening. Sometimes, on the bad days, it feels like he's the only one who every really listens to _you_ , the only person who always goes through the effort to understand what you're saying, with your signs and hoarse, painful whispers and hastily sketched diagrams, which are still too slow to keep up with the pace of conversation most of the time. But Sam always gives you time to finish your thought, doesn't skip ahead to what he thinks you're going to say.

 

     It's not like the others are impatient with you, or ignore you. They all try. Everyone put in the time to learn the sign alphabet with you, excited for the new diversion from thinking about something besides just surviving, making it home, where the next day's food would come from. Some of them, especially Sarah, even still learn a new word now and then, usually a vulgar one in Simon’s case (That's undeniably one area where he knows more signs than you. Some of the words he's found you learned the sign for before you ever heard it spoken), and will sign as they speak to show you that they're practicing, that you won't be shut out, or left behind. That they care. Not just about whoever's the fourth body to be listed fifth on the list of runners, even if you're the one who insists on still going by their call sign when off mission ( when Sarah handed you back your id after verifying with Mullins, you didn't know how to say thank you, couldn't have expressed what it meant even back when you could talk, when all she said was "Here you go Five."), but about  _you_. But there are so many other things to worry about now, and it’d be unfair to expect them to spend all their time just focusing on learning something that really only helps one person. It's a big township, getting bigger all the time ( You like to think, if only to yourself, wouldn't want to seem like a braggart, that you're helping with that. You blushed for what felt like hours when "Abel's newest runner" was mentioned on the radio as being responsible for the sudden increase in rations). The needs of the many, and so on. There’s always so much to be done. You understand. It's easier to just listen most of the time anyway.

 

     But things are different with Sam. You catch him going through his copy (He made sure to get his own copy, no one else did that) of the BSL dictionary all the time, even when he doesn't know you're watching. It was him who found you when you broke down crying after trying to give a simple mission report during your first few weeks and the new gestures (You had practiced them so many times. You had tried so hard.) just slipped away from your fingers as if they were smoke carried away by a sudden gust of wind, and unable to stop yourself you just turned and walked away as calmly as you could pretend to be. It was him who had stopped you when you, thinking you finally had some privacy for the first time since you entered Mullins, slammed your stupid, clumsy hands into the wall over and over again. (Impulsive. Angry. If they were too broken to speak with, you’d make them too broken for anything else. What was your plan for when you were finished?) Who sat with you, tried to make you smile. “Come on Five. As long as I’m here, you’re never going to be the _most_ useless person in Abel. Anyways, how good is being able to speak? People always tell me I speak enough for three people, and it doesn't seem to be a compliment. And they might be right about me prattling on, well, only when I get nervous, which is often, or maybe all the time, but..." He pauses for a breath, pushes his hair out of his eyes. "What I'm trying to say is between the two of us, we'll be only slightly chattier than average.” Words that were meant to make you feel better but also let you know you’re not the only one who felt small. Sympatico. A self-deprecating laugh, a timid touch, so gentle you didn’t even think to shove it off, before, with a sudden decisiveness, the whole arm settled around your shoulder. It's the first time you've been this physically close to someone since Day Z and it's not until that soft weight falls on you that another one lifts, that you're aware of how much strain you've been carrying, more than you would have thought possible for your body to hold without collapsing in on itself. You ask him to help you bandage your hands up. He helps you tell everyone you tripped during a training exercise when they ask about the bruises.

 

    Signing come easier now. You still need to write a lot of stuff down when talking to other people in Abel, Jody even got you a little chalkboard and some chalks on one of her rare runs to the craft store, but you've come to think of the gestures as your new voice. It’s definitely better than speaking for the short amount of time you can maintain noise before your shredded larynx, never really healed after the injury from the helicopter crash, needs a break. There are long, silent conversations in the Comms Shack as he keeps an ear to the transmissions, sometimes even while he watching other runs, with an occasional pause for one of you to look up a word you need. He’s gotten incredibly good at saying two things at once. No one’s ever suspected that he’s doing anything other than his job as Abel’s radio operator, as you both share stories about what life used to be like, or how you think the Demons and Darkness campaign might turn out. You've never been able to multitask like that ( Your dedication is what got you this important assignment as a new recruit back at the base. Tunnel vision, commit to the mission until it's done. Run as fast as you can, like a fired bullet toward the goal, going through anything that dares to get in your way).

 

    And so, for all of this, you try to make sure he knows that you're always listening back.

 

     The headset crackles a little in your ear as his voice comes in. "Hey five?" A long sigh takes you by surprise. As far as you know, this is just an ordinary supply run, no zoms on the scanners, nothing to worry about. It's a welcome break from all the recent chaos. It's been abnormally ordinary actually. Usually something has gone slightly wrong by now. Tick-tock. "I want you let you know," his breath catches. It's been a long time since he's been this nervous talking to you. Maybe not even since the night run. Tick-tock. tick-tick-TOCK <No problems/everything is fine/don't worry>. Tick <request for: information/update> . The system you use while out on a run is clunky and imprecise. There's so little you can say like this, compared to when you’re really together, but it's yours. And his. You share it.

 

     The crackle again. His words are more sure this time. "I just want to let you know, you're going to be alright. It's all going to be alright. I love you."

 

     It's the first time the word has been spoken between you and it makes you stop. But not as hard as the tranquilizer dart that hits your neck.

  
  
.....

 

.....

 

... you're falling


End file.
